Part 68 (1/2)

”But they'll pick him up,” he whispered, now impressed by the other's manner.

”Look out yonder,” said the policeman, a native of the place; ”is it likely they'll find him there?”

”Hah!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the detective.

”And there's no such current anywhere for miles along the coast as runs off here.”

”Hah!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the man again, as he stood now watching the lights, one of which kept growing more distant, while the hails somehow seemed to be more faint and wild, and at last to resemble the despairing cries of drowning men.

”Listen,” whispered the detective in an awe-stricken tone, as he strove to pierce the darkness out to sea.

”It was Master Leslie, that,” said the second policeman; ”I know his hail.”

Just then there was a wild hysterical fit of sobbing, and George Vine rose slowly from his knees, and staggered towards the group.

”Luke!” he cried, in a half-stunned, helpless way, ”Luke you know--Where are you? Luke!”

”Here, George,” said Uncle Luke sadly, for he had knelt down in the place his brother had occupied the moment before.

”You know the currents. Will they--Will he--”

He faltered and paused, waiting his brother's reply, and the three officers of the law shuddered, as, after a few minutes' silence, broken only by a groan from the kneeling man, George Vine cried in a piteous voice that sounded wild and thrilling in the solemn darkness of the night:

”G.o.d help me! Oh, my son, my son!”

”Quick, mind! Good heavens, sir! Another step and--”

The detective had caught the stricken father as he tottered and would have fallen headlong into the tide, while, as he and another of the men helped him back to where Louise still lay, he was insensible to what pa.s.sed around.

But still the dim lights could be seen growing more and more distant, and each hail sounded more faint, as the occupants of the boats called to each other, and then to him they sought, while, after each shout, it seemed to those who stood straining their eyes at the end of the pier, that there was an answering cry away to their left; but it was only the faint echo repeating the call from the face of the stupendous cliffs behind the town.

”Why don't they come back here and search?” cried the officer angrily.

”What for?” said a voice at his elbow; and he turned to see dimly the shrunken, haggard face of Uncle Luke.

”What for?” retorted the officer. ”He may have swum in the other direction.”

”So might the world have rolled in the other direction and the sunrise to-morrow in the west,” said the old man angrily. ”No swimmer could stem that current.”

”But why have they gone so far?”

”They have gone where the current took them,” said Uncle Luke, coldly.

”Want the help of your men to get these poor creatures home.”

The detective made no reply, but stood gazing out to sea and listening intently. Then turning to his men--

”One of you keep watch here in case they try to land with him. You come with me.”

The two policemen followed his instructions, one taking his place at the extreme end of the point, the other following just as voices were heard, and a group of fishermen, who had been awakened to the fact that there was something wrong, came down the rocky breakwater.